An Opening Word
Good times, bad times. Whether religion, politics, economics, you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both...
Last week I wrote two articles I have compiled and edited here in order to be read the way they were intended: Together. Neither is complete without the other. Likewise, neither is more correct than the other. Some religious people are kooks; some religious people are wonderful. Anyone who focuses on one end of the continuum without acknowledging the other is missing the full picture. But as for me and my house, we are trying to represent following Jesus that looks more like... well... Jesus, and less like a rehash of organized religion that unfortunately does a lot of harm.
It may sound overly simplistic, but religion that does harm is not what the true God intends. That impulse originates with some other god. But such impulses do not have to win out. Ideas like "Love your neighbor as yourself" and "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" are rooted in ancient wisdom that teach us they ways we were supposed to live from the very beginning.
So on that note, here is a look at both sides of the same coin, a coin that always seems to be in motion.
Losing My Religion
A lot of religious people are kooks. Across the board. Christians, Hindus, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Jedis, pick your favorite flavor. That probably sounds funny coming from an increasingly optimistic preacher. But when you have been in this business as long as I have, you tend to have so much insider information that you start wishing you could just simplify it all down. You start craving the religious equivalent of a nutritious meal.
Recently, in the Sunday morning class I teach, I made the observation that one of the things that (hopefully) makes our church stand out is that we are not a bunch of kooks. Know what I mean?
We don't kill people in the name of our God. We don't protest soldiers' funerals. We don't play with snakes, or do somersaults during worship, or put up billboards around town as monuments of grandstanding self-congratulations.
Let me try to make an observation that I hope can be heard as more analytical than judgmental. Ready? Here goes. I think the thing that makes non-religious people suspicious of all religion is the lack of voice they hear coming from the religious community against violence done in the name of God. "Killing in the name of..." We hear it occasionally, but probably not enough.
Now, here is another tough observation: We Christians need to do better on that front. We are not speaking out enough when the crazy Christians flip their lids. Perhaps one of the messages we need to be saying more is, "That's not us."
The media is responsible for some of the blame. They prefer kooks over level heads most days of the week. Twenty-four hour news networks thrive on people who yell at each other. Reasoned discourse? Not so much. They give voice to religious types who do crazy things while the rest of us who try to practice simple faith are just not that... (What's the word?)... newsworthy. Simple and normal just doesn't sell.
Sigh. That's me in the corner. That's me in the spotlight losing my religion.
I tried editing and rewriting this side of the coin so that it would not sound so negative. I really tried. But the cold fact is that the contemporary global religious landscape gives us plenty of fodder for negative observations. Sad but true.
I posted on facebook recently, "Practicing simplicity is complicated." It is. Not too easy to survey one's life and figure out what needs deleting. I still carry around some attitudes and postures that need mellowing. Even as I write (and reread) this I know deep down that I have a long way to go. Every whisper, every waking hour I'm choosing my confession. But I know this much: We need to figure out what it means to be a Christian without being religious. Moreover, I wonder if we simple followers of Jesus can get the word out that not all of us are crazy. Because some of us are staying plenty busy when a religious kook gets media happy and tries to represent the whole of the devoted masses. We are staying busy saying, "That's not us."
The hard part is finding a way to say it louder. I've said too much. I haven't said enough.
Choosing My Confession
A lot of religious people are wonderful. Pick a card. Any card. Each religion has its good guys and bad guys. That probably sounds funny coming from a recovering cynic. But when you have been in ministry as long as I have, you tend to have seen so many beautiful expressions of faith that you start wishing you could get the word out more. You start craving the spiritual equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet.
In a recent sermon I made the observation that one of the things that (hopefully) makes our church stand out is that we are simply loving our neighbors as ourselves. Know what I mean?
We accept everyone in the name of our God. We go to funerals to offer comfort and support. We shake each others' hands, sing edifying songs in worship, and put invitations on our sign out front that we hope are welcoming. Signs like "Mercy triumphs over judgment."
Let me try to make an observation that I hope can be heard as more loving than analytical. Ready? Here goes. I think the thing that makes non-religious people rethink their attitudes about religious people is when kind and merciful actions overtake the judgmental postures they assume all religious people have. We see that occasionally, and it is always good.
Now, here's another good observation: In spite of a few undeniably crazy Christians, lights of hope flicker all over the world. Churches all over are speaking out for those the world dismisses as second-class. Perhaps one of the messages we need to be saying more is, "We are really trying to reflect Jesus."
I am grateful that some of these messages are getting out in the media. Every once in a while you will hear a level-headed Christian in the news. Stories like NBC's "Making a Difference" tell about organizations that feed the poor and equip people for action. They give voice to groups who practice simple faith that actually put their ideas into... (What's the word?)... practice. Simple and normal looks good.
I tried editing and rewriting this particular side of the coin so that it would not sound so cheesy. I really tried. But the wonderful truth is that the contemporary global religious landscape gives us plenty of reason to be optimistic about those faithful few who daily put their faith into action.
I posted on facebook recently, "Practicing simplicity is complicated." But it does not have to be. Just look over your life and survey what you are doing right. I have learned (and am still learning) to put into practice the delicate art of being present. Even as I rewrite and compile these ideas I know deep down that this just might build you up, O faithful bloggerland friend, at this very moment. I also put my hope in this: We are figuring out what it means to be Christian while being accessible to the world. Moreover, a few of us simple Christians are getting the word out that you can talk to us about anything. Because some of us are staying plenty busy attempting to represent the real Jesus to those who seek genuine truth.
The fun part is finding a way to say it every day. There's still so much more to say... and do.
A Final Word
For my vote, I want to be one of the spiritual-religious-church people who non-devotees can look and see a combination of value and purpose. But the tension is there. Always. The coin keeps flipping, the wheel in the sky keeps on turning.
Nowhere has this dialectical tension been articulated more timelessly than the first line of Charles Dickens' masterpiece, A Tale of Two Cities. And not just the first two clauses, but the whole first sentence:
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
